Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Something Unexpected

Chapter 5: Something Unexpected

With his stomach quite rumbling, Arash had left his lounge and stalked through the palace where there were often few guards. The walkway he chose on his way to the small dining quarters where he might eat in peace without disturbance was a scenic one.

Through the entablature an the pillars the lush green courtyards beyond, full of fountains and bridges and shade trees that rustled in the wind, often gave Arash a feeling of calmness whenever he felt flustered.

At times he came here simply to have quiet, or to read, when he was not otherwise entertaining himself and his friends with various distractions. It was then that he stopped and breathed in a deep lungful of air. The scent of the grass on the wind was altogether different than the salted sea air from the balconies on other side of the palace and—

His attention was drawn by a figure further down the corridor.

Is that… a woman?

Arash stalked toward her out of curiosity. The servants were not permitted to stroll about the palace and to take leisure—not like these. They had areas where they were permitted to go, far away from the sight of Arash and the other royal occupiers of the palace.

Eyes widening, he almost came up short, but stopped himself from halting as he recognized the woman. She was wearing a white robe, her black hair done up in an intricate series of loops that formed a knot on the back of her hair, though since some of her hair hung at the sides, she had a somewhat messy air, though clearly the style was intentional.

She smiled immediately and with a small bow she greeted him. “Prince Arash. I did not expect to see you in these halls.”

“Princess, Tamu,” he said with a polite nod of his head, feeling self-conscious of his demeanor. “Neither did I expect to find you here. What is your cause for being alone in the halls on this side of the palace? Are you quite well?”

“I assure you, I am quite well.” Then she glanced to her side and Arash followed her gaze. Farther off he saw a woman in altogether less fine garments and he realized she must be one of Princess Tamu’s handmaidens.

“I did not expect to see you until tonight,” he said, stating the most obvious point. Gods preserve me—I sound like a bore.

She smiled. “It is not unexpected that you should move about the palace, for it is your home. It is I who should not be here, and yet I am.”

Tamu tilted her chin slightly and Arash was surprised at the inference she led him on, that she was sneaking about.

“Have you never been to the Ancient City before?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then let me give you a tour of my palace.”

Princess Tamu raised an interested eyebrow, then she glanced to her handmaiden who shook her head. It was clear then that she had to stifle a laugh befoe she nodded. “Please,” she said. “I would very much enjoy that.”

Arash could not help but smile. “Have no fear,” he said. “I am like to sneak away at times myself.”

“Oh?” she said interestedly. “Pray of a time you broke palace decorum in such a way.”

He looked at her, surprised by her easy attitude. Already he found that he liked this Princess Tamu—and because of such, he felt nervous and made stupid gestures as he attempted to act normal.

“There was a time my friends and I snuck into the stables,” he said, walking her along the corridor where they turned.

She stopped suddenly and glanced about. “Where are you taking me, my prince?”

“Why—to show you something.”

“Not to the gardens?”

He smiled. “You have seen them.”

“From afar.”

“I assure you, Princess, that the gardens are far lovelier at night when they are alighted by the lamps. I take you to see another thing—a cultural treasure of my father and forefathers.”

He proffered his arm.

He saw that she swallowed with indecision. She moved as if she wanted to glance behind herself to see if her handmaiden was there, but she stopped and smiled, took his arm. “Very well. Lead on, Prince Arash.”

They walked for a time, and then she reminded him of his story.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “We stole the horses from out of the stables and rode them down the mountain through the lower city.”

“Were you not discovered?”

“Not at first, as my friend Bahktiar—ever the trouble maker—had us garbed like poor street sellers.”

“What happened?”

“We were discovered, of course.”

“How did it come to pass?”

“It was Bakktiar’s fault. Our habit was not that of such who would have been able to afford horses. The city guard stopped us on account that he thought we horse thieves.”

The princess laughed, covering her mouth. “What then happened to you?”

“We were taken to the city prison.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly?”

Arash couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, truly. They did not believe me the prince or Bahktiar the son of a satrap.”

“Surely you were not within the prison so long?”

“At least until nightfall,” Arash said. “It had taken time for my absence to be realized and the discovery of our theft and departure from the stables.”

“And what did your father think of it all?”

“He was not pleases,” said Arash, remembering the sultan’s gaze upon him, but ever was he gentle with his son—for Arash was his only heir. Though he did not tell her these things.

Finally he stopped and pointed. “We are here. But…”

“What is it?”

“There is a guard at the door,” he said.

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, no,” he said slowly, “but if we are discovered, surely a thousand servants will descend upon us to take us back to prisons, Princess.”

She laughed.

“Then what are we to do?”

“We must construct a pretense to make him move so that we can get into the chamber without being seen.”

“Oh,” she said lightly, and glanced back. Her maid servant was there, ten or so paced behind as she followed her princess.

“Come,” said Arash. “Follow with me, and play along.”

“Ah—all right.”

They turned the corner and approached the single guard standing at the door. Arash made to engage the princess in conversation to seem as natural as possible. “My father’s palace is quite large—the largest in the kingdom in fact, and farther up ahead are some of the dining halls. We have large halls and small halls. I often go to eat a sweat in the small dinning chambers so as not to be disturbed.”

They passed the guard standing before a monumentally high set of double doors embossed with intricate carvings in the wood. At the top they curved, perfectly set into the rounded archway.

 “Do you find you go there often?”

He nodded, “Very often. The cook makes the most wonderful pastries that—“

Arash—as part of his plan cried out suddenly. The princess flinched, blinking at him. “Are you quite all right?”

“I am,” he said, then suddenly he cried out again and pushed his fingers to his jaw. “Ah—what is this pain in my tooth?”

“Your tooth, my lord?”

“Yes, an incredibly pain as I have never felt such before.” He cried out again and Princess Tamu played her part so well by glancing about nervously and taking him by the shoulders that he wondered if his trick were truly so affective.

“My prince?” the guard said.

Arash couldn’t help but hide a smile.

Good—it is working.

“Mmm!” he moaned. “Ah, my tooth. Oh gods—the pain.”

“My prince, are you well?”

“What?” he said, whirling on the guard, “do I sound like I am well, man?”

The guard in his white palace attire trimmed in silver and gold looked distraught for a moment, but said nothing.

“Oh, sir,” said Arash as he addressed the guard. “Would you kindly fetch the court physician?”

“I am sorry, my prince, but my duty is to maintain my vigil at this door. You well know the ancient freeze of your—“

“Yes, yes—Ah, the pain, gods!”

“Oh my,” Tamu said, looking concerned.

“I cannot move,” said Arash, and he wilted against the wall.

“Surely we can walk you to the physician?” Tamu asked.

“No, ah! The pain! It hurts so badly—you no not hence these devils assail me, Princess Tamu. I am so ashamed that you have to see me in my condition as I am afflicted so.”

“Surely this fine man can fetch the physician?” Princess Tamu asked.

“Yes,” said Arash. “Yes, please, good man. Your prince will maintain your vigil—just fetch the physician, sir.”

“I… I cannot---

“You will fetch him.”

“Yes, Prince,” the guard said with a bow and he hurried off. “I will return shortly.”

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After his footsteps receded they waited in silence for a time, and then Arash burst out laughing with Princess Tamu joining him in their moment of mirth. From the corner of the wall her handmaiden appeared.

Arash saw her and looked to the princess for answer.

“She is fine,” Tamu said. “Come, Bayarmaa.”

The handmaiden smiled, bowed when she approached them. “Well,” said Arash. “We do not have all the time in the world, though would that we did, because what you are about to see is magnificent!”

He moved, pushing open the doors with a mild grunt of effort, surprised at how heavy they were. In fact, to his mild embarrassment, he failed to push them all the way open.

Looking to the princess, he laughed it off and beckoned she follow him. He then slipped inside, turning his shoulders so he could get through the thick doors. Once Tamu and her handmaiden managed to get inside, he proffered the princess his arm once more, and for a moment she marveled at the vaulted ceilings before noticing.

She took his arm and Arash took her up the steps and passed the flickering brazier torches. “It is magnificent, is it not?”

“It is!” Tamu breathed. “I have never seen such a magnificent fresco—and does it glow, Prince?”

“Yes,” he said, looking up at the colors and the mural they portrayed.

“Are these the past sultans of Ashahnai?” she asked. “I do believe that one is Hosseini Al Mahdu—I recognize him with the beard.”

“Truly?” Arash asked, surprised. He looked the fresco and frowned. He had learned all about this fresco when he was younger, but by now he had quite forgotten many of the details.

“Yes,” she said. Then she looked at him sheepishly. “I have been studying the history of Ashahnai. I even have a copy of the Sword and Sorcery Entertainments.”

“Oh, that old book?”

She said nothing, glanced back up to the fresco, wondering why he would show her in here and yet be so cavalier about it all—it was his history.

He does not seem to know or care of what I speak.

“Look at the gold,” he said, pointing to the framing of the fresco. “And do you see the precious stones?”

“I do,” she said. “A king’s fortune indeed.”

“A fortune worth that of many kings,” he said proudly. “My father is the sultan and the kings of Ashahnai are satraps.”

“Not all of them are satraps—or even kings recognized by your throne,” she said, wanting to impress him with her knowledge.

“What—of course that is nonsense,” he said. “We control all of Ashahnai. Al Hamiroon is an ancient dynasty and our power is absolute. We control all of Ashahnai.

Know this thing of which the prince obviously believed to be an undisputed truth, and yet was in reality absolutely false, Tamu could not help but glance to her handmaiden Bayarmaa.

They shared am embarrassed look between them, for the two had studied together, Bayarmaa being the one who had procured for Tamu most of the books and scrolls concerning the Ashahnai Imperial Domains and its histories.

“My prince,” she said.

They were in the center of the chamber now—a around room with freezes of such magnificent quality hung about all the walls. They depicted battles and great moments by the sultans of Ashahnai and the lesser kings—some of which were traitors defeated in battle, or who joined the empire during times of great crisis.

“Yes?” he asked absently, marveling, not the paintings or the fresco, but the wealth of all the gold and jewels encrusted into the frames and in the walls.

The brazier torches flickered at even intervals throughout the round chamber. He did know that many of the paintings had been magically sealed, preserved against aging.

“When was the last time you read the Epic?”

“The Epic?”

“The Sword and Sorcery Entertainments, prince?”

“Yes, well”—he made a dissembling noise—“children’s bedtime stories. It has been years, Princess.”

“Oh,” she said, quit disappointed, as she had wanted to to speak of that great book with him. Many of the stories were quite thrilling, full of exploration and adventure—and even violence.

But children’s bedtime stories?

You are quite arrogant are you not?

She nodded dutifully, letting the topic cease. “I am quite impressed with this chamber, my prince, but perhaps we should be getting back?”

“What?” he asked. “No, it is fine.”

“Truly?” she asked. “Will you not get in trouble?”

“I am the prince,” he said with a laugh. “Trouble? Of course not.”

“Mm,” she noised with a nod and glanced to her handmaiden.

“My prince?” a voice asked.

It was the guard from before. “He came into the chamber, his movements slow and surprised. He swallowed. “My prince, you know the doors are not to be opened for anyone but on your father’s edict.”

The physician came up behind him. “I have come my prince. Let me have a look at you.”

“Perhaps later, sir,” he said. “I am quite well now. We shall be going—is that not right, Princess Tamu?”

“Uh—indeed, Prince.”

He proffered his arm and led her out of the chamber amidst the watchful eyes of the physician and the guard and Tamu signaled with a slight snapping of her fingers for Bayarmaa to stay close.

Once they were free of the halls and the pestering physician, who would not leave off his want to administer a looksee at the prince’s mouth, they all took a breath. “Perhaps we should have been stealthier.”

“Indeed?” she asked.

“I must apologize,” he said with a mild bow. “I should not have placed you in a disconcerting position like that. Often my childish excitement can carry me away.”

She smiled then, surprised at his humble apology and admission of immaturity, and though she did not find those qualities to be something she sought in a man—his ability to recognize them and to humble himself before her, did indeed present a venerable character.

And besides—they were both very young.

“Princess?” he asked.

“I am sorry,” she said, pulling herself from her thoughts. “It is no big thing. Trouble yourself not, Prince. But I should be going back now—or we will be missed.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod, his disappointment obvious to her. “Of course. And we would not want that, now would we?” He smiled playfully. “You might get in trouble.”

“As you will be for opening those doors?”

He sniffed bemusedly, “Rightly so, Princess.”

She couldn’t help but laugh then. “Come, Bayarmaa.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“I will see you later during the banquet,” he called with a smile, and she glanced back at him and nodded.

Watching her and her handmaiden recede into the palace, Arash found himself back out in the halls with the open arches leading into the gardens. He tapped his silken pantaloons with his hands, wondering if he had made a terrible impression upon the princess.

He had rather liked that she was willing to misbehave with him, in fact, her beauty and her adventurousness made his heart beat fast. That she could be his wife made him smile, his previous thoughts of being expected to mature past the point of wasting his days away with his friends completely left behind.

Did I make a fool of myself though?

He remembered the scroll of which his uncle, the high vizier had given him with a list of her interests written in her own hand. He had left that scroll in the lounge, completely forgotten.

During his showing of the Great Dome of the Sultans, he had revealed to her that he had forgotten more about his own history than she presently knew. And to dismiss the Epic as he did—it still embarrassed him.

With a heavy sigh he forgot his hunger and went back to the lounge where he had left the scroll behind.

 

When Tamu and Bayarmaa shut the door upon entering their apartments, her brother glanced up from the couch he was upon where he had been reading a book.

“Where have you been, sister? I did not know you left the apartments.”

“Do not worry,” she said, startled to find him there, and catching her in her return. “I only wished to see the halls around our apartments. I took Bayarmaa with me.”

He stood up. “I do not think it appropriate that you wander the halls of this place.”

“Why ever not? We are guests here by the sultan’s own decree—we are safe.”

“It is not your safety I worry about,” he said. “These barbarians look upon us of the Wind Steppes with great admiration for which—“

“Do not call them barbarians, brother.”

He sniffed with disdain. “And why should I not?”

“I may very well be married to the prince,” she said. “How then will you feel about our illustrious nobility being soiled so?”

Dzhambul then practically sneered, however he left off. Finally he said, “At the very least observe the proper decorum while you are here, sister.”

As she had been striding for her rooms, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, considered what he said, and nodded. Then she left him there in the antechamber.

Though her father had not come, many officers and lords of his court had been a part of their train, and now Princess Tamu found that she was suddenly swarmed by ladies, indigent of her absence.

“Princess,” Ganzaya, said. She was the wife of a minor khan come to assist her, “where have you been? We have much to do. You must rest—you must bathe.” She clapped her hands and an army of handmaidens arrived.

Princess Tamu sighed.

“Now now, “ Said Ganzaya. “Do not fret, dear princess.”

“This is not necessary,” she complained.

“Oh—nonsense, princess!” And then in a tone most pleased and surprised she said, “Have you seen the baths? Practically pools!”

And I cannot swim…

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